The Detectives Loyal Pet
by vicwithacam
Summary: While on a case Sherlock Holmes finds an injured stray dog that he takes home to care for. Little does he know that that dog is more then meets the eye. Just a new story I made last minute
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was never a man who was good with human interaction, finding it better to be alone in his bedroom then out in the real world. Even as a child he would stay in his room and read behind closed curtains, keeping himself in the book world then going out in the real world where it was far more complicated. No, in the world of books and science he was normal; he wasn't judged nor treated like a child. In that world anything and everything was possible. It was something he could sit back and do without worrying about people considering him a freak for the ability to deduce everything he saw; in these worlds of symbolisms, literature, places of wonders, he, Sherlock Holmes was normal.

People were far too complicated to be around anyways as well as not worth trusting. Behind every human was a secret, something dark and sinister, even Lestrade whom was the head of police most likely had more skeletons in his closet then he would ever like to admit. Everyone had secrets, secrets that made Sherlock sick to his stomach thinking about. The only person he could ever interact with without thinking ill of was none other than his dear landlady who had humbly taken him in after he had made sure that her cruel husband stayed in prison- Yet another man who had more skeletons in his closet then thought possible. But behind a man of secrets was a lovely woman who wanted nothing more than someone to take care of. Ever since they moved in together she had treated Sherlock like a son; no far better than any mother would treat their child yet even so. Sherlock considered her like a mother he never really had, a mother he would have been proud to have.

His family was uncaring to say the least; his mother didn't really enjoy him, instead of taking care of him like a mother should she gave him a cold shoulder. He had a lovely nanny that took the place of a true mother. His mother was always far too busy for him, she had too much work as did his father. But it wasn't just that; they spent time with Mycroft and less with the strange son who would rather be in a world of books and education then in the real cruel world that they had been born in. Even his nanny kept her distance after he began asking questions she didn't know how to answer. He had proven to be a genius but instead of being treated well and praised he was given space as if they were afraid they would be looked down by the child.

He was forced out of his mind palace at the sound of someone knocking at the bedroom door, his eyes casted up, his hands up to his mouth in the thoughtful position he had been doing since before he remembered. Sherlock looked away a moment, hoping that would leave him be for a while but the knocking only got a tad bit louder. "Sherlock are you alright?" Came the lovely voice of the older woman, she was worried. Of course she was worried it had been nearly 3 days since he had left the smoky bedroom he was sitting in, he hadn't left it for food, water, or any interaction what so ever. She probably was worried that he had died and she would have to walk in on a corpse if she wasn't careful. He sighed a moment before getting up to his feet, slowly heading to the door. His hand grabbed onto the once golden now rusty door knobs and he twisted, letting the bright light of the hallway into his naturally lighted room. Smoke slowly escaped the bedroom and into the surrounding crevasses of the flat the two inhabited, gray smoke molding around him and into the clean areas of the flat before simply turning transparent as if it was merely air as well.

"Yes, ?" Sherlock asked softly, the woman seemed a bit bewildered by the amount of smoke coming from the bedroom but said nothing about it. Instead looking at him to make sure he was alright. His skin was pale but it didn't look like he was ill, his cheeks still a slight pink color. He had lost a bit of weight but not an extreme amount that would have made her worry too much. His ocean blue eyes pierced her own, trying to find the answer to his own question within her own but coming out completely empty handed.

His eyes began to look at her appearance; she had flour on her sleeve, her cheeks rosy and lovely from the heat of the oven. She had been baking, and by the brown sugar under her nails he could guess it was simply cookies and not a full course meal just yet. Pity, he would have been happy with a simple dinner then something sugary. He moved that thought away, better to be thankful for now then rude to the one person who meant a lot to him, his eyes met hers once again and a smile appeared on his face.

"I made tea and cookies would you like some?"

"Of course. Your cooking is always preferable to store bought . If you would be so kind as to set it at my door when you have gotten it for me, I'm a bit busy at the moment. I don't have time to chat."

nodded a bit though the look in her eye as well as her posture told Sherlock that he had disappointed her. Surely he had wanted him to come down stairs and be of some company to her but she knew better than anyone that he kept to himself no matter what mood or how close he was to someone. He wanted to apologize for getting her hopes up or ruining her attempts to get him to get out of his smoky room but he had no idea how to begin, human interaction had to be kept to a minimum or he would be sure to screw it up. Instead he let her turn and head back down stairs towards the kitchen to get him the cookies and tea while he went back to reading and looking down at the city around him.

His eyes casted down at the streets below, streams of water from the continuous rain in London streamed down into the storm drains of the alley. He watched as small animals he presumed to be frogs hopped about happily over the oncoming storm that would most likely strike within 5 to 10 minutes. Most storms in England lasted some time and intervals between them weren't near long enough though Sherlock didn't mind. Cold weather, dark storm clouds, the rain hitting the window making a perfect rhythm was peaceful and perfect reading weather to him. He enjoyed it far better than reading without a single sound; rain was just a natural sound that made him concentrate on the book in hand harder.

He eyed a frog that jumped into one of the streams and watched as it made its decent into the storm drain before he sighed and looked away. "Idiotic creatures." He muttered, and in reality it was truth. As a child he had attempted to safe frogs in the pool on their property but when he would safely put them on solid ground, away from the doom of drowning in the toxic chlorine water the frogs continuously chose to try to hop right back into it. After a few weeks of it he had given up and let them die; surely upon trial and error of previous frogs the rest would evolve and adapt. Hopefully see that what their stupid species had done they would learn not to jump into the toxic water themselves but that never happened. He compared them to the criminals through the ages.

None had really ever gone without punishment, most were executed and brought to justice but no matter how many were taken down more would try crime themselves. Instead of seeing that criminals were always getting caught they would continue to make the mistake so many others had made before them and get caught themselves. They were as stupid as the amphibians on the street below his home and the ones that had died in the pool of his childhood home.

The knock on the door once again took him out of his deep thoughts; he looked towards the direction of the door before once again getting on his two feet. He opened the door, his eyes casted down at the cookies and tea on a plate, was nowhere in sight but that didn't matter to him, he merely smiled at the kindness she had given him, bending down and picking the treats up happily before locking himself up in his room once again.

Instead of sitting back down at his chair he went to the closet and took out a dusty violin case, he only ever played it when he was depressed or bored. He claimed it helped him think but it was in fact the exact opposite, it took his mind off of the fact he had no cases what so ever, instead slipping his mind into the blissful melody that filled his small yet comfortable bedroom. He opened the case, taking the beautiful violin below him. It gleamed in the light as if inviting him to play, welcoming it fully. He picked it up in his bony fingers, propping the end on his chin skillfully before he began to play soft yet sad music.

His eyes casted down at the floor as he walked from one edge of the room to the next, a beat to his step as if he had an audience but there would never be except the woman in the home with him. She was the only one ever presented to the sweet melodies Sherlock played for no one but her and himself. He didn't need sheet music, all music either came from the heart some claimed he didn't have while others were perfectly in his memory that he had learned when he was much younger. He passed by the two windows that were directed at the front of the flat, his eyes looking down at the streets below but instead of seeing the streets empty and void of any people what so ever he was surprised to see two police cars parked near his home, lights going.

There was a case and it was serious if they needed his help. Sherlock slowly moved the violin away from his chin as he heard footsteps coming up the stair case. The door opened and Sherlock didn't turn around, knowing full well it was Lestrade behind him panting for air. "Good god." He heard the police chief whisper as the smoke came out of Sherlock's room once more; most likely surprising him more then he would have liked to admit. His mind quickly went from the smoke to the problem at hand.

"There's been a murder."

"I assumed as much, considering you're here. Make it quick and don't be boring."


	2. Chapter 2

Lestrade sat down on the plush couch silently as he watched the great consulting detective make himself some tea, a slight skip in his step gave away the excitement of getting a new case. Other than the slight movement that gave him away Sherlock remained calm as he listened expectantly for Lestrade to explain what was going on. It was a strange feeling; having another person in his room, his private utopia being intruded on was normally unwelcome but considering Lestrade was here for a case Sherlock had no choice but to let him in.

He could tell by the gaze and posture of Lestrade that he was clearly nervous being in the comforts of the messy room in which he had found himself sitting. Sherlock decided to pay no mind to it; instead he grabbed his cup and sat down on the chair across from the detective. Sipping at the peppermint tea he eyed Lestrade's fingers that were nervously tapping against the couch arm rest. "Now, please begin." Sherlock said calmly, and as immediately as he stated that Lestrade's fingers stopped tapping and he leaned forward as if he was about to tell Sherlock something top secret that he didn't want someone to overhear.

"We were tipped off by an anonymous caller that an abandoned building was being used for illegal experimentation." He began "Not just on animals but human beings- anywhere from incorporating animal DNA into the humans to see if there was any physical changes as well as mental to putting drugs in their systems and incorporating tortures into their daily encounters."

"You heard this from an anonymous caller? They don't sound like they were innocent either."

"How so?"

"They knew too much about what was going on, it had to be someone working there who realized the errors and how inhuman they were being and decided to call. Even so, just as guilty as the other ones in the situation considering. So far, so boring, but please continue."

Lestrade watched Sherlock a moment a bit unsure about what to say, cases were not meant to be entertaining but something to solve and bring justice to the families of the victims. He looked away a moment before getting up and opening the windows in the room letting the smoke slowly flow out of the fogged up bedroom so he could get some air. Sherlock watched him a moment before sighing just wanting him to get to the fun part but was coming to find that that probably wouldn't happen any time soon.

"When we got there all of the workers were dead, most of the experiments had been shot, and the paper work was burned as if they knew we were coming and needed to get rid of everyone that could talk as well as any form of evidence the only thing we could find of any use was a name written in blood."

That caught Sherlock's attention, the murderer wrote a name, something of use to him. Now he was interested in the case, he perked up and looked the detective dead in the eye before standing up. "The name, Lestrade. What was the name?" Sherlock now sounded a bit rushed, as if he didn't get the answer soon it would lead them all too impending doom, something Lestrade knew could in fact be true in the situation.

Lestrade paused a moment before looking at Sherlock as if unsure if he should say it out loud or not, surely Sherlock could already assume who it was, who the name belonged to, the name did after all belong to the man who was the very definition of crime. Sherlock walked closer, not only a few inches from the other man's face as he continued to look at him, his eyes piercing into Lestrade's own, searching, needing the answer. Finally Lestrade looked away a moment, unnerved by the eye contact and lack of personal space he was receiving before whispering it "Moriarty."

Sherlock took a couple steps back, realizing how close he had gotten to the other man before nodding a bit. He grabbed his coat and shrugged it on quickly, his eyes staring at the smiling face he had painted on the wall, two bullet holes in the middle of the face. It deserved it for being happy when he had been depressed but now looking at it, they both had a reason to be happy; he had a new case. That was enough to make any consulting detective's day, the smiling face would be spared another day from another bullet wound. Sherlock then leaned into the closet and grabbed his scarf, wrapping it skillfully around his neck with his bony fingers before looking at Lestrade. "Who's there for medical?"

"Anderson."

Sherlock winced at the name, he hated the man, and though he honestly had no reason for it other than the fact he considered Anderson an idiot with an IQ of 13. He didn't want to work with him but he guessed that he had no choice, he knew of no doctor's for he had no friends, Anderson was the only one he shamefully admitted to knowing. "Andersen." He muttered a bit as he opened the door to his bedroom so he and Andersen could head down the stairs.

"Oh don't start; he's excellent at his job." Lestrade said, fighting off the smile and chuckle that was attempting to show his amusement of the detective's discomfort. He kept the straight face as they walked outside and to the car, Sherlock didn't say anything more the whole car ride, pouting over who was to work with him. They drove a short way out into the country a few miles outside of London, some building were burned down the ones that remained were deserted of all humans except possibly Moriarty and the police that were tying off the crime scene no more than 100 yards in front of the car Lestrade was driving. Sherlock gazed at the front of the warehouse silently; most of the windows were broken, pieces of it were still in the windows but simple pieces that didn't fall when rocks and weather caused them to shatter. The once great wooden walls were creaking under the weight it now had a hard time supporting. This wasn't a lab; it was more like a death trap in itself. If Moriarty hadn't killed them then the structure would have been the next. Sherlock stared at it, calculating, it only had a couple days standing from the looks of it. They needed to get the bodies out and quickly in case the structure decided to fall early.

The car park and both Lestrade and Sherlock got out of the car, Anderson glared at Sherlock when he noticed him before walking into the building. Lestrade noticed the look and sighed a moment, those two never got along; he feared hell would freeze over before they came to an understanding. He looked over at Sherlock who was already moving towards the creaky building, hands in his coat pocket. He pulled out his black leather gloves before putting them delicately on his hands as to not leave prints and disturb the evidence.

"I can only give you 5 minutes Sherlock." Lestrade said as Sherlock walked into the warehouse silently.

"That's more than enough time, thanks."

They went into a long hallway, the lights that were turned on flickered slightly as they walked, it felt strange. The eerie atmospheres seemed to spook the other police officers as well, most were whispering in groups as if the walls had ears until they saw Sherlock and began work once again. He walked into the first room; bloody cages lined the wall, dead animals and humans alike were lying in puddles of their own blood, eyes glazed over yet they were opened as if aware of the two intruders that appeared at the door of their room.

Sherlock walked through the room silently eyeing all of the dead things within it; there was a few people lying in cages that he recognized as missing people, he didn't care though. He had the upper hand when it came to not caring, that way he could get through the case without having to worry about messing up over something so stupid and useless as the emotions of affection and sympathy towards the victims. They were just bodies now anyways; empty shells, they didn't care nor did they feel any longer; it was useless to care about their past anyways.

His eyes his one person; a dead child: female, age was somewhere around 6 or 7 years old, and brown hair that was matted in blood. Her eyes were glazed over like everyone else's but there was something different about her compared to the rest; her ears. They were no longer human but they appeared to be almost like a leopards, surely they weren't real and some sort of makeup that the lab had done in hopes to show their superiors that they had developed some sort of human leopard hybrid. He opened the cage slowly and pressed his hand to a bloody ear; real. But it was impossible, had they actually managed to do things like this? And if they had what was Moriarty planning on doing now that he could change the physical appearance of human beings and animals.

He looked down at the naked girl one last time before leaving the room towards the next one; this one had mostly animals in it. All dead as well but one cage was open; no animal was within it. It simply had the name tag John Watson on it, a human name but then again most of the animals here were named as if they were humans why would this one be any different. Then again maybe it wasn't an animal but a human being that managed to escape the building before getting killed.

Sherlock opened the cage a bit more to look inside, seeing fur in a corner he picked it up and looked closely at it; dog fur. Alright, it wasn't human but something that managed to get out of a lab that experimented on the poor thing. For all Sherlock knew the animal was dangerous and needed to be found, he would take some extra time after to look for it himself. It couldn't have gotten far considering there were some spots of blood from the bottom of the cage and out of the room; a blood trail that would possibly take him right to the wounded animal, and possibly to Moriarty. Sherlock gently brushed his fingers to the blood and looked at the fingers in the light, blood was on it. It was a trail made recently before it had time to clot and dry itself, good that meant it wasn't far at all.

2 minutes left, he needed to find the lab members that were murdered and figure out what happened before he had to leave. He walked into a room a few doors down and saw a young woman lying on the floor, mouth open a bit in surprise, her glazed eyes were wide. It was almost unnerving to see the dead making such emotions as if they were alive but Sherlock thought nothing of it, instead working on looking her over. Molly Hooper was the name on her name tag, a bullet wound through her heart but she didn't die from that; there wasn't enough blood on the ground to assume that the bullet was the method of killing, in fact Sherlock was positive it was something to throw the others off the scent.

"She wasn't killed by a bullet." Sherlock stated plainly as he looked at Andersen "I suggest taking blood samples, as well as some saliva, and tissue to see if there are any toxins in her system."

That was all he could say before Lestrade escorted him out of the room, his 5 minutes were practically ended before he honestly could deduce enough and go through the multiple bodies. "Whatever they hoped to achieve was accomplished- they wouldn't have killed everyone and everything if they didn't." Sherlock stated "Whatever Moriarty is planning we all need to be on our guard all right?"

"Thank you for your help Sherlock, do you need a ride home?" Lestrade asked after a moment, Sherlock only shook his head; he had other things to do, first off, finding that dog that escaped the cage in the lab. He had to get it to his home and take some blood tests, learn some of the things they put in the animals systems, the sooner he did that the sooner the case was solved.

Sherlock watched as Lestrade walked back into the warehouse before he walked around the building before spotting the blood trail leading out into a lone field. Sherlock sighed, slowly following after the trail into the tall grass silently, his eyes trying to find the res specks that littered the ground within the tall almost impossibly thick grass around him. Finally he got to the end of the trail and saw a young golden retriever lying on the floor of the field whimpering in pain. Then Sherlock saw the reason for the blood trail; the dog's hind leg was shot.

Sherlock slowly got closer whispering to the animal softly trying to calm it down, he was surprised that the dog simply looked up at him with what seemed to be hope as he progressed towards the wounded animal. Normally wounded animals fought people trying to help them, feeling cornered and trapped they would lash out but this dog was different. Even as Sherlock investigated the leg the dog did nothing but sit there letting him look it over. It was serious but nothing Sherlock couldn't get out himself, he offered the dog a small reassuring smile "It's alright; I will take you home and fix you up John."

The dog's ears perked at its name and it almost seemed to nod as Sherlock picked him up in his safe arms and began walking towards the main road to get someone to take them to 221 b.


	3. Chapter 3

((Hello, everyone! Gosh it has been so long since I posted a chapter of this story! I apologize greatly and hope that everyone forgives me. I've been feeling rather out of it lately and hopefully I will be getting back in the swing of things again. This story was also a bit on the strange side and I did end up getting writers block. But thankfully I have found what to do with the next chapter or two. Please read and review, I love hearing from everyone on what they thought of the story.))

Sherlock walked into 221 B with the dog in his arms tiredly. It had taken then nearly a half an hour to get a cab willing to take himself and an animal home. But at this point it was more or less worth it now to be in the familiar home. It smelled heavily of coffee and cigarettes, something that brought comfort to the detective. Sherlock looked down at the dog that was sniffing the air cautiously before looking up at the consulting detective.

"Yes, John. This is home." Sherlock said under his breath before walking them to his room and grabbing a couch cushion for John to sleep on. The dog sniffed the entire room, being sure to be thorough before he looked at Sherlock and woofed softly. Sherlock grinned softly before leaving his small room, the dog limping after them. Sherlock leaned on the staircase with a smile "Mrs. Hudson, I have someone for you to meet."

The older woman came bounding out of the kitchen with a blush, her fingers brushing the shirt down trying to get a couple of the obvious wrinkles to be less noticeable. She smelled of flour and tea, she had obviously continued to cook after Sherlock had left to work on the case. "Oh Sherlock dear, you should have told me we were having company. I would have cooked something more than sweets." She said with a lovely smile before noticing a furry head looking down at her. Her smile widened significantly as she slowly walked up the steps and kneeled beside the animal, petting it softly on the head for a moment or two. "Didn't tell me you were getting a dog."

"Oh no, I plan on giving it away after it's healed but for now I'm planning on taking care of it." Sherlock corrected "I don't really care for animals, they demand to much attention. "

"What's his name?" Mrs. Hudson asked happily as if she hadn't heard what Sherlock had just stated. The dog closed its eyes contently and nuzzled into her hand. Sherlock looked down at the two quietly as they interacted with one another. John's tail was wagging gently as Mrs. Hudson smiled and spoke to the dog lovingly about fixing them up and spoiling them rotten. It was a rather adorable sight to witness even if Sherlock wouldn't admit to that. In fact, he turned to look away for a moment as if in deep thought before finally turning to look at them again.

"His name is John." Sherlock replied, looking down at the dog again that's ears perked up at the sound of his name. Mrs. Hudson smiled at the name, calling John's name softly to them and referring to them as a handsome dog causing the dogs tail to wag even more.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson." She said playfully to the dog "Sherlock's landlady, if he gives you a cold shoulder you just tell me dear." John wagged their tail, barking a couple times which caused the landlady to giggles a bit. "What a smart dog. Are you sure you won't keep him Sherlock? He is very sweet." She almost had a hopeful look in her eyes, as if she wanted John to stay more than anything. Sherlock looked at her a moment, thinking about it a moment before shaking his head.

"I don't have the money or the time to take care of an animal Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock replied simply. John stared up at them, a pleading look in their eyes that made Sherlock's heart break ever so slightly. He cleared his throat a moment before he turned and went to their room to get some papers in order and work on the case. He had some pictures of the crime scene sitting delicately on his desk waiting for him to deduce every bit of detail within them. He sat down at his desk, fingers in his thoughtful position as he stared down at the photos silently. Every now and then he would look up when he heard the nails of the dog clicking against the stairs as it went down and up them, obviously exploring the house. He heard Mrs. Hudson talking contently to the dog whenever it came near her. The dog never came into the room, staying clear of the detective while they worked. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he kept John, it was definitely good company for Mrs. Hudson if Sherlock was too busy on a case.

2 in the morning Sherlock woke up to weight in the bed shifting near the edge. He opened his eyes a moment before he noticed a ball of fur laying on the edge of the bed. He looked up at the clock a moment before he sighed. "John." He managed tiredly; the dog lifted their head and looked at them curiously. "This is my bed, yours is on the floor." He stated flatly, John looked at the couch cushion a moment before groaning as they sat up. John jumped off the bed clumsily before limping towards the cushion and curling up on that instead. They yawned and rested their head silently on the edge of the cushion, watching the consulting detective laid their head on the pillow, facing away from them.

Sherlock fell asleep again after a short time. He dreamed he was sitting in his old chair, fingers to his soft lips as he stared in front of him at a young blond man. A cane rested against their own seat as the blond balanced a laptop on their lap, typing away in silence. For some reason Sherlock knew it was John Watson, there was a familiar look about them even when they were a human in the dream he was having. From the look of their eyes, the mood that they were portraying as they stared at the computer screen in silence, and the body language they were portraying.

"John?" he whispered softly as he sat up a bit more in his seat, the young man looked up from his computer for only a moment before looking back at the screen. They continued to type away for only a second longer before they closed the computer and set it on the table between them. Stretching a bit causing his muscles to crack before he looked at him with a tiny smile on his face, a brow arched as he looked at them curiously.

"What is it Sherlock?" came a soft reply, his voice was deep yet soft and gentle. It relaxed the detective as they continued to stare silently at the human being before he stood up. Sherlock walked over to the chair, he moved a hand to their hair and pet them silently a couple times. John chuckled a bit, swatting his hand a second "Quit it." He said with a laugh before looking up at them.

"Sorry, I'm not used to you as a human." Sherlock stated after a moment, looking unsure of him. John laughed a bit before shaking his head; they grabbed their cane, slowly standing up on his own two feet. They were a couple inches shorter than Sherlock was, not surprising to the detective; most people were a bit shorter than him. John looked up at them with a small quirk of a smile on his lips. Sherlock felt himself drawn to them, their lips soft and inviting. Before he knew it he found himself leaning forward, their lips brushing together.

"Sherlock, are you awake? It's nearly noon. Lestrade is calling asking for your help." Came the voice of Mrs. Hudson which caused Sherlock to wake from his slumber. He looked from her to the bed where John had fallen asleep hours before. The bed was empty; John had obviously gotten up a few hours before and had most likely followed Mrs. Hudson around all morning. Sherlock sighed a moment, attempting to forget the dream he had just had. The thought alone disgusted him; even if John was human Sherlock was married to his work. He was too busy with his job to pursue a relationship of any kind.

"Tell him I will be there momentarily if you please, Mrs. Hudson." He said after a second, grabbing some clothes from his closet and heading towards the shower. John sat on one of the chairs and barked a greeting. Sherlock looked at them a moment and frowned before heading into the bathroom, locking the door. He turned the shower on and stripped. He put the clothing in a small pile on the bathroom floor to take care of later, before he stepped into the shower.

The water droplets slowly fell down his exposed skin relaxing his muscles and waking him up. He grabbed the soap and lathered it on his skin quickly trying to get his mind on the case at hand. To his disappointment his mind palace kept wandering off to the dream he had, trying to match the face with someone he actually knew. No matter what he couldn't seem to match the face to anyone he had met throughout his life. He frowned a bit, shaking the thoughts away again and attempted to go back to his normal thoughts.

His mind went back to the dead girl's body that had real animal ears. There had to be an explanation, some sort of chemical that had been made to turn human beings into something more animalistic. Maybe it was from actual animals like John or….what if the elixir that had been made turned human beings into actual animals. The girl not yet completely turned before killed off. That would mean that John Watson had possibly been human once, and there was a family waiting for him somewhere. Sherlock opened his eyes and continued to think about this- there had to be some way he could turn him back, reunite him with family if possible. If John hadn't been human then he would remain a dog, which was fine to Sherlock.

He could always keep John, or give him to someone who took better care of them. Maybe Lestrade would like a dog, something that would be ok with being rough housed with by children. Whatever happened he needed to figure out what happened and John Watson may have very well been the key to the whole thing. That would explain why they had attempted to kill off all the animals and humans in the factory; they had something in them that could only be found if alive.

He turned the water off and grabbed the towel. After he dried himself off he walked back into the room, looked at the dog staring at a bowl of dog food Mrs. Hudson had given them. Sherlock smiled slightly at the look in John's eye, something that showed a bit of an unpleased sort of look that was very clear even on an animal's face. "John." Sherlock stated, the dog looked up at them curiously, ears perked a bit "I'll bring some food up, we'll keep this between the two of us yes?" The dog's tail wagged a bit at that as if he agreed before watching Sherlock walk into the kitchen. He grabbed some tea for himself, grabbed a pan before heating the stove top. He rummaged through his kitchen and found some bacon and eggs. They sizzled on the pan as they cooked, the smell made John get up and limp to the kitchen. His tail wagged again a bit when he noticed Sherlock set a mug of tea on the ground before a plate was lowered to the ground as well.

John went over to the plate and began to eat, their tail continued to wag quickly as they ate. Once it was completely licked clean they lapped up the tea and sat there, they moved the plate with their nose towards Sherlock hoping the detective would understand. Sherlock looked down at the plate and picked it up; he put it in the sink and cleaned it while his own food cooked. As he waited he called Lestrade and explained he may have found what they were attempting to hide by killing everyone in the factory, that he would call him with the results. When he hung up he put his own food on the plate and sat down at the table. John walked over to them, resting their head on his lap silently. "It's alright John. I think I may have found a way to help you. It may take some time so you have to be patient."

John perked up at that, they stood up a bit and ran around in a circle a moment in their excitement causing Sherlock to smile slightly. John sat there a while before he limped out to the living room and curled up on the couch. Sherlock continued to eat in silence, the kettle began to boil again as he sat there. He got up, grabbing the mug John had been using, cleaning it, and then put more tea within it. He set it on the floor then walked into his room. He came out a few minutes later with a microscope and a syringe. "John. I need a blood sample if that's alright." Sherlock finally said after they set the microscope on the kitchen table. John watched them a moment before getting up and sitting beside them. Sherlock knelt in front of them; gently he put the needle through the skin. He took the blood sample and put a drop of it under the microscope.

He inspected the blood and wrote in silence for some time. He grabbed up his phone and called Lestrade with what he found in the blood stream. Once off the phone he grabbed his science lab equipment and began his work. John sat near the chair; his eyes never left Sherlock as they worked. After a couple hours John left the room to see what Mrs. Hudson was doing and when he came back Sherlock hadn't left his spot in the kitchen. Still working away with chemicals he had never heard of before.

By 3 in the morning Sherlock continued working, he scribbled in his notes silently as he continued. Working on formulas quickly, John was too tired to pay much more attention to the human. He limped to the couch cushion and curled up; he fell asleep after a few moments. The silence from Sherlock lasted a couple days, making the dog get more and more anxious. Mrs. Hudson took him out of the house when she could, walk them around the neighborhood and to the vets to get their leg checked up and pain killers so John could walk on it properly.

Finally day 4 of silence from Sherlock the detective came out of the kitchen with a smile on his face. "I've done it John! I've found a way to turn you into whoever you once were as well as made the same elixir that turned humans into animals." He smiled victoriously as John barked excitedly; Sherlock had made a lot of the elixirs, one for himself to keep in case of an emergency, one to use on John, and a second to give to the Yard. He put the syringe with the elixir into John's vein and waited. At first nothing happened, John sat there with a look of disappointment on their face before he whimpered in pain.

They limped painfully into a closet, yelping softly as pain over took them. Their body falling on the closet floor before all was quiet. "John…?" Sherlock asked softly, there was no reply coming from within the closet. Sherlock bit his lip, had he been wrong? He had never been wrong about anything like this before. But he couldn't help but worry he was wrong and had somehow managed to kill the animal. He walked over to the closet with a nervous look in his eye.

When he opened the closet a bit the clothes in the closet had been knocked down on a form. Peeking out of the clothes was a pair of human legs. There was a groan from underneath the clothing, the legs moved a bit as the human adjusted themselves into an upright position. The clothes slowly slipped off of the front of John. They blinked at Sherlock with dark blue-gray eyes. Their blond hair sticking up in places messily, they looked tired and worn but also extremely pleased to be back in a human body. "Sherlock...?" He asked a bit nervously, his fingers grasping the clothes around his lower half of his body "I hate to sound selfish but- is there a possibility you can get me some clothes?" After all Sherlock's clothes were a bit on the tight side on the detective, he knew there was no way he himself could fit into them until they got some clothes for him.

Sherlock seemed surprised, the voice sounded exactly like the one he had heard in his dream. He pursed his lips together a moment before nodding. "Of course, give me a moment- there's a store not too far from here." Sherlock said after a long pause. He grabbed his coat and ran through the front door. He called a cab and ran to a store finding a couple jumpers and pants he thought John could fit in. He paid for everything and hailed a cab again, running into the house. Sherlock walked into his room and realized John hadn't moved from his spot. In fact he had fallen asleep in the pile of clothes from the exhaustion and excitement of the day. Sherlock thought of waking him and giving him the clothes. But for some odd reason he couldn't seem to bring himself to do it. He gently set the clothes beside them and closed the closet door a bit to give John privacy before he himself went to bed, getting some needed rest.


End file.
